


By Any Other Name…

by PaperPrince



Series: Hux Hux Baby [1]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Backstory, Closeted Character, Hux's backstory, Kissing, Loneliness, M/M, Minor Character Death, Minor Violence, Pre-Movie(s), Sad Backstory, bad childhood
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-22
Updated: 2016-03-04
Packaged: 2018-05-22 15:21:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 4,481
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6084720
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PaperPrince/pseuds/PaperPrince
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Three times General Hux hated his first name and once when he didn’t mind so much…</p><p>Alternately General Hux has the worst first name, a bit of a complex about it and the most tragic backstory to go with it. (A fairly serious story with ridiculous plot points).</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. One

**Author's Note:**

> Please note I’m not overly familiar with Star Wars and so please forgive me if I’m completely wrong about some parts I used Wiki as a reference and some things were not clear so I made them up. 
> 
> The battle I’m referring to is the Battle of Yavin which I think would have occurred around General Hux’s birth, although I don't think his father would have been involved in the battle..

General Hux had been too young to remember the actual events but he has heard bits and pieces over the years, enough to piece together the story from his father’s occasional drunken ramblings.

His father, Brendol Hux, delayed by training and news of faraway battle arrives too late. The medical station outpost is quiet as his ship approaches, and ignores all attempts to communicate before docking. It is a bad omen, one that makes his the hair on his neck stand on end as he thinks about the assets that should be waiting for him on board. Pushing personal feelings aside he determines that the medical supplies of the small space station and the injuries of his surviving cadets outweigh the potential risk of a trap. They will need every young soldier he has in the days to come following the destruction of Death Star. As the ship docks he prepares his tired cadets for ambush, reminding them to remain alert and prepaid. 

They board the station in their blood coated armour to find it abandoned. The lights are weak and flickering while the heating is almost non-existent. What should be a warm bright busy station full of medics and patents is empty, left with its barest functions running.

It is another failure, another infuriating blow to an already tiring day.  
Why? His head fills with questions he cannot answer and it displeases him. Brendol cannot stand mysteries, he demands answers, knowledge so he can plot and plan and strategise. Straightening his back, he barks at his cadets ordering them to search the station quickly; for medics, medication, droids, patients, whatever they can find of value or even better someone to interrogate.

Once alone he turns his mind towards his wife and new-born child. This medical station had seemed ideal at the time, close enough to the Academy and with supposedly the best medics to be found for lightyears. It was small too, too small to be of notice to the opposition he had thought. Worry clouded his mind as he stalked the hallways, searching. There were no signs of fighting. It was perplexing. Had the medics somehow heard of their defeat and fled like cowards? His fists clenched in anger at the thought. They would rise from the ashes of the Death Star and exterminate the Rebel Alliance. 

He turns the corner and catches sight of a small medical droid, peeking down the corridor nervously before retreating into private quarters. Brendol strides after it breaking down the door with ease. 

There on the medical bed he finds his beautiful wife, lying cold and still and covered in blood. An honourable death beeps the medical droid beside him. Brendol shoots it with his gun. He blames the droid, the incompetent absent medical personnel, and himself. They are the ones who had failed her. The thought occurs that maybe their failure is the reason for their absence. Perhaps they had not the guts to face him following her death. He looks again at his beloved wife and vows to personally enact brutal revenge. 

A loud wail startles him. 

Impossible, he thinks turning to the small cot in the corner of the freezing room. Survival in these conditions seems unlikely. Moving closer he peers beneath the thin metallic blanket and spies a tuft of red hair and a small fist. Brendol finds himself smiling for the first time that day, as he picks up the small bundle and stares into cold blue eyes. He is tough he thinks proudly as his son yells unhappily in his arms. He brushed a thumb across the small cheek removing the blood that lingered there. As terrible as the day had been he has a son and that is something. He holds the child close and peers at the paper anklet wrapped around his small foot.

His mouth twists in confusion at the words scribbled messily in blue. Baby Hux. An odd choice he thinks, mistaking the rushed identification bracelet for a name. He casts one final glance at his beloved wife as he turns towards the door holding their child close.

“As you wish my dear.” He tells her, aware she cannot hear him. He doesn’t understand it himself but then he has always trusted her judgement.


	2. Two

Little Hux is already ashamed of his name when he is first shipped off to the Foundation to begin his training. At six years old he does not consider himself a baby and secretly hates his dead mother for calling him so. Hates that the silly name is all he has of her. Despite his small frame and pale skin he is not weak, not helpless or sweet as the ridiculous name implies. He is strong. He does not cry, not when he is cold or hungry, not even when he is left alone for days on end.

Despite his youth he is a serious expressionless boy. In many ways he takes after the stoic nanny droids who had been his constant and often only companions. He does not cry when he is lead from the shuttle and left on the dry tarmac unlike the other children who babble and whine and call for their mothers. Instead he is excited, determined to work hard, to prove himself, to make his father proud.

[Secretly he hopes to please his father enough to be allowed to join him at the Academy. But two years into training, he will later discover, that Arkanis is lost along with pretty much everything else. Hux wonders as he gazes up at the stars if his father had known, if maybe that was the reason why he was made to study so far away on a drab miserable planet with nothing but rain and mud. Or had he as he feared dissatisfied his father somehow?

_The Hux line endures honourably_ , he recalls clenching his small fists turning his face towards the distant mountains. He had been small too young to really understand his father’s words at the time but he recalls the warmth of his father’s arms and being held for a little while. It is a small moment but one cemented somewhere deep inside his core. He thinks of his father’s eyes, the blue that is reflected in his own eyes and resolves to not disappoint him again.]

He quickly discovers they do not use first names at the Foundation. His first name would have marked him right away as a target. Thankfully here he is simply Hux, cadet or boy. As a new recruit he considers it a mixed blessing. He still stands out amongst the parade line thanks to his prominent red hair and distinguished last name. But it is not as bad as it could have been. He tilts his chin up and does his best to ignore the curious stares.

There are whispers in the dark, when the lights are out and they are lying in rows of hard beds. In the dark, tales of home, of families and friends left behind are shared by young frightened boys seeking comfort in each other. First names are also exchanged like secrets. Hux does not share anything with them although his tongue burns with desire. He has heard about this budding camaraderie from his father. He wants to make friends too, to join in with their whispers but he knows that the older boys are listening in, and that these tentative alliances will not last.

He is proved right later when a small snivelling boy with dark greasy hair is killed by older ones, his so called pals using a disclosed allergy against him. Imagine your enemy is as ruthless and conniving as yourself, his father’s words ring in his ears as his instructors remove the body in the morning. He contemplates the waste of cadet as they pass by, the boy had been improving as a marksman and passed the last assesment. His father recommends eliminating undesirables but Hux cannot help but think of the boy’s potential. Murder should be necessary, not merely clever he thinks turning away.

They are later discouraged from murdering one another. Class sizes are small enough they are told. [When he is older he will better understand why that is, why they are made to run to suffer. Galactic misfits, outcasts hounded to the distant unknown regions. Persecuted for trying to bring order to a broken fragmented galaxy. It is not his fault, nor is it his father’s that their side had lost. But it burns all the same.]

However when tutors backs are turned it remains more or less the same. The older pick on the younger, the strong against the weak. The stupid punch while the clever are more ingenious and cruel. Secrets are dredged up and used where possible for blackmail or humiliation. Despite the rules deaths still occur. But now the weak suffering for longer, the pain is drawn-out until they cannot cope any more.

Hux considers himself fortunate. He is left alone more or less. Only a few of the older ones dare, mistaking his bookishness for weakness. They quickly learn he does not start fights but ends them. Soon everyone leaves him alone. He prefers it that way using his free time to read or practise combat. Like everyone else he sleeps with a knife.

Hux does not tell anyone his first name, does not share even the smallest thread of personal for someone to choke him with. But his name is discovered eventually, in his eighth year of training. A hacked database or something similar he is lead to understand by his blackmailers. It is the same group that had conspired and killed that first year. They taunt him and make ridiculous demands. He may be a Commandant’s son but that means little in exile.

He decides then staring at their smirking faces that he will not be bullied or blackmailed by anyone. He is not weak nor will he be ashamed. He is outnumbered but that does not prevent him from permanently silencing their laughter.

He washes their blood from his knives with ease and heads off to his music lesson.

Later that day he sends his father a short message. **_Call me Bay_.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I'm no expert but I think Hux's childhood would have been difficult especially as mid way through when he is about eight? everything would have gotten worse and they would have been exhaled and sent to the outer rim? So in this his father has kinda pre-empted that. The Foundation is meant to be similar to the Academy his father runs as well.


	3. Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The moment he is informed he is being made General is the happiest moment in Hux’s life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I decided that part three was better split into two parts so overall this fic will be a bit longer than originally planned. Also I know there isn't any Kylux yet but it's coming.

The moment he is informed he is being made General is the happiest moment in Hux’s life. He deserves it after years of tireless work for the First Order. Everything he has achieved he has done alone. To him the title is more than just the culmination of his success it is proof. Proof that he is strong, clever, and above all ruthless. That he is everything his father had ever wanted in a son. He puts on his perfectly tailored uniform and tries to ignore how small he feels beneath the thick black coat. Nothing remains of the small helpless infant his mother had held briefly [if at all].

[And yet… there is a small minuscule part of him that longs to hear that secret silent b in his name again. It would not do however to be called that name. Baby. It is not the sort of name that strikes fear or inspires the troops.

It is sentimental, it is _soft_ ].

It is the sort of sweet name a close friend or more plausibly a lover might utter holding him close. Hux does not have either. Does not, dares not. He does not ache with longing. He sleeps alone. Love is weakness. He remembers his father’s sermons. Remembers the hushed rumours, remembers the boys who had gone missing. He won’t be like them. He is not weak. He has remained steadfast against fleeting temptations, against muscular bodies and handsome faces. He is not like that. His impeccable service record speaks for itself, he will not taint it with scandal. [Nothing will stand between him and the galaxy he desires].

He is alone and he is _content_.

He runs cold fingers along the dark shadows that sit beneath his eyes. He has already accomplished more than his peers could ever hope to in their own paltry careers, he thinks gazing at his mirror reflection. He knows they call him the poster boy of the First Order and sneer behind his back. He sticks his chin up. It does not matter. He will be the youngest General in the Order, jealousy is only natural. He looks at himself one last time, his lips a thin hard line. He will command the respect he deserves.

The ceremony itself feels akin to torture. There is not the same level of pomp and ritual as there had been within the Empire but it is elaborate celebration of his achievements none the less. Important officials, the elite of the First Order gather from across far solar systems just for him.

As he steps up to the stage covered in red he finally realises he is part of this elite too. His stomach turns as he glances at the vast audience watching him. He can almost feel several of them willing him to trip up on his long coat. He had been informed beforehand that the Supreme Leader Snoke would not be in attendance. Hux still isn’t sure if that is a good sign or not. He can only hope he has not fallen out of his favour. And yet Snoke’s absence is not felt as keenly as Hux’s father’s, his chair left empty in remembrance. [If only his promotion had been sooner. If only his father had mentioned his sickness].

The material of his dress uniform begins to irritate, the cloth so much softer than his body is used to. He does his best to concentrate on the ceremony and his lines. He can feel dozens of eyes watching him and wonders how many more are watching from afar. It is disconcerting to think of himself appearing on thousands or millions of holo-screens as he makes his short speech. Soon he is stepping off the stage as General Bay Hux. [General Baby it sounds ridiculous even inside the safety of his own head]. He has little time to dwell as he is guided around the room shaking hand after hand. Making small talk is almost as agonising as attempting to hold a smile.

How much longer it will last? He wonders as the heat and congratulations begin to suffocate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case it wasn't obvious [I've used the square brackets for some of Hux's inner most thoughts].


	4. Three Point Five

As soon as he manages to escape from the small but persistent photographer who had blinded him with flash and babbled incessantly on about creating a First Order calendar, he decides he needs a break somewhere peaceful and quiet. Slipping past the crowded reception room he follows the corridor until he comes across a vacant sun lit balcony. He heads outside in the hopes that the air there might be fresher with maybe some sort of breeze.

Hux walks over to the railing and rests against it wearily. He needs to get more rest. He runs a gloved hand through his hair and looks -not at the small city spread out below him- but beyond at the miles of bright useless orangy-brown sand. [He is one step closer to being the leader the Galaxy needs. _Emperor_ ]. He can feel his skin heat under the harsh sun, if he is not careful he will burn. The sooner he can get off this miserable planet the better he thinks his mind turning to his new command. They have given him the Finalizer, the largest and finest ship within the First Order. He is not left alone with his thoughts for long.

Hux straightens hearing footsteps and turns to find a tall man in elegant dark robes approaching him. [Only slightly taller than himself]. Wide shoulders and dark hair the General notes with a quiet dismay. He relaxes minutely realising from his clothing that he is not of the First Order, maybe a senator’s son or something?

“Congratulations General.” Says the stranger holding out a flute of what looks like sweet juice to Hux. Up close the man is young and strikingly rugged, his eyes dark and mysterious, [the kind that will probably haunt his dreams for weeks]. Hux thanks him and takes the other glass, the one the man has already sipped from [and is therefore less likely to be poisoned]. He is met with a smirk and a raised eyebrow, and hell is that infuriating. Hux cannot help being cautious to the core. He sips at the stolen drink and uses the glass to hide his smile, as childish as it sounded the General couldn’t help but prefer the sweet sugary taste over the bitterness of alcohol.

They make awkward small talk for a bit before Hux finds himself talking a little of his work, his new ship and his cat. [Tall dark and handsome] listens intently and at the mention of spaceships slips easily into complex technical babble as easily as speaking another language. As he listens to the taller Hux cannot help wondering from where this dark demigod has descend and how he has snagged himself an invitation to this event, perhaps he’s a starship engineer? Whatever his profession he seems genuinely confused by the concept of pets, [adorably so]. Were he speaking to anyone else Hux would normally be imagining their death by now but somehow it is not unpleasant talking to- Hux realises belatedly he has forgotten to ask handsome’s name. It is too late to ask now, without making things awkward again. He’ll have to get his assistant to look up his name later, it shouldn’t be difficult not when the marks on his face reminds Hux of constellations.

Handsome’s cheeks turn red as they talk, probably he is suffering as well in the intense heat. Hux knows they should return inside where it is cool but he has images of Millicent on his tablet and finally someone to show them to. Their hands brush as they each reach for the device and they stand there staring at one another for a while.

“I- I don’t like sand.” Handsome stutters a little as he speaks the tips of his ears turning red.

Hux stares at him slightly confused by the sudden change of topic. He blinks and realises that the other is probably suffering heat stroke. He reaches for his arm to steady him, and leans forward to check his temperature.

Another voice cuts in suddenly-

“It is time for the banquet General Hux, Lord Ren.” Informs one of the stormtroopers/servers before disappearing again as quickly as possible.

“We’ll be just a moment.” Replies handsome who also apparently happens to be Lord Ren.

Hux swears mentally and quickly removes his hand from the other’s arm. He has heard of Lord Ren, he is assigned the General’s new vessel. Moreover he is force user, a mind reader. Snoke must have sent him. Was he sent to spy on him? Hux tries not to panic. Had he been reading his mind all the time? Does he know the secrets hidden deeply within the General, the thoughts he dare not voice. Surely he would have felt some mental intrusion. Hells does he know about all the wicked things Hux had been thinking about him? His cheeks flush red with embarrassment. How dare Lord Ren be exactly his type!

Lord Ren runs a hand through his hair and avoids the General’s eyes.

[He _must_ know]. Hux wants to die. [He probably will in a minute anyway] he thinks looking for Ren's infamous lightsaber.

Lord Ren turns to leave. “I’ll see you around Baby.” He says looking back over his shoulder his lips turned up at the corners smugly as he winks at him. Lord Ren is still smirking as he walks right into the wall by the door.

Hux laughs for the first time he can remember. At least he can die laughing.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't help but imagine Hux and Kylo are terrible at flirting. Kylo was trying to act all smooth but he's too much of an idiot to pull it off..
> 
>  
> 
> I think I'm coming down with a cold so you might have to wait a bit for the next chapter...


	5. Five

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This isn’t exactly what I’d planned to write [I’m going to admit now I had no clear ending except for possibly some kissing] but this is the way I ended up going. Some angst but it gets better.
> 
> [Also I forgot that in Samson the sequel, Kylo has long hair so I've tried to retcon that in this chapter].

As someone who had frequently had to kill to eat, Hux had often dreamed of banquets, tables full of food piled high. However in his dreams there were never so many forks or frenemies surrounding him. At the evening banquet he sits at the head of the long table presiding almost regally over the other officers he now outranks, reminding them all that today is his celebration. [That he cannot wait for this day to be over is irrelevant].

At his right sits an aunt he does not remember, her red hair greying and pulled back into a practical neat plat. Despite her low rank of Brigadier, she is owed reverence at the table because of him. Her sharp nails dig into his dominant arm as she prattles on, boasting of her children’s dull accomplishments, cousins he has never met and has no desire to.

Disregarding his Aunt he squints at the tiny morsel that is artistically arranged on a – well he’s not quite sure but it’s not a plate. He picks up a fork and cleans his plate with a single bite. He’s sat through nine courses already and yet he is still starving– he will be talking to the chef later. As ridiculous as it sounds he prefers the simple filling food he has been brought up on, the kind that feeds the First Order. Not this strange spicy, gourmet food that does nothing to sate his hunger. [He tries not to glance down the table to where Kylo Ren sits, handsome and brooding].

Seemingly sensing his despondent wavering attention his aunt’s grip tightens, her nails piercing his flesh. Despite his discomfort Hux does not flinch. “As I was saying dear Hux, you are at an age when you should be contemplating settling down. I know plenty of lovely ladies loyal to the First Order.” She tells him her voice soft yet bitter like lemons. She knows nothing of him [or his _preferences_ ]. Clearly she hopes to use his promotion and their blood connection to improve her and her daughter’s positions.

Perhaps if she had not tried to threaten him. Perhaps if she paid more attention to him as he was growing up Hux may have more compassion. But it is too little too late. He is his father’s son and he will not be intimidated nor does he give handouts. No matter how much anyone wishes it he will not contemplate matrimony, especially one that is merely a political alliance. He carefully removes her claws from his arm and wipes her bloodied fingers on the red tablecloth as the final plates are removed. She tries to break his tight grip on her wrist but he is stronger. She opens her mouth to speak but he interrupts before she can say one more distasteful word, quieting his aunt by congratulating her on her imminent transfer to one of the more desolate and bleak outposts of the First Order [he will sort the paperwork later]. She does not say another word all throughout the dessert course. This suits Hux perfectly for he has more important concerns.

Specifically the mysterious and handsome Kylo Ren. His new _co-commander_.

He reflects on their strange conversation on the balcony. What had he wanted? Why was he here? [Why did he look at Hux so bewitchingly?]

The long haired knight fills his thoughts so completely he nearly misses the after dinner entertainment, the quiet assassination of several young Captains who foolishly added poisoned cream to their caf. Everyone knew you didn’t add cream to your caf.

It is a good ending to a horrible dinner, Hux thinks as stormtroopers drag the bodies away from the table. He casts a small smile down the table one he casts supposedly towards his subordinates but really for the enigmatic Knight. Only when he looks Kylo isn’t there any longer, his seat is empty and he has already disappeared. Kylo didn’t take the cream did he? He wonders, a strange uncomfortable feeling blooming in his chest that makes it difficult to breath.

Dinner over Hux rises, keen to return to his temporary quarters as quickly as possible. He had been… _anticipating_ another conversation with the handsome man and now he feels strangely lost. He turns down the corridor that leads to his private quarters and stills catching sight of black robes and long dark hair.

Kylo Ren is waiting outside his room. Waiting for him it seems. Hux’s heart _does not_ flutter at the sight of him standing imperially his back straight and his long hair loose and tempting. One hand holds the helmet Hux has heard of under his arm and at his belt that mythical lightsaber. His face is unreadable. Hux approaches breathlessly, for once uncertain.

He moves to enter the room code, but Kylo stops him taking his leather gloved hand in his.

“I wished to talk to you about earlier.” Kylo says his voice low and husky his mouth terribly close to Hux’s ear. “I thought it best we speak in private. I had… planned on surprising you in your quarters.” He says slowly hesitantly, his eyes fixed on where their hands are still joined. Kylo’s clumsy touch is like a caress.

“However when I entered your room I discovered six of your rivals concealed and waiting to assassinate you. - I have dealt with them.” He adds as Hux notices a puddle of blood seeping slowly from underneath the door seemingly confirming Kylo’s story. A surge of warmth grows in Hux’s chest, no one had killed people just for him before, on his orders yes, but never willingly.

“Thank you.” He says looking up into Kylo’s dark eyes. “What about my cat though?” He asks concerned.

“She’s fine.” Kylo says revealing a small ginger cat curled up in his helmet apparently asleep. Hux smiles and moves to take her. Instead Kylo presses him up against the wall. “Come to my room Baby.” Kylo says squeezing Hux’s hand gently. Hux despises his true name, he should be annoyed, should push Kylo away. Instead he wavers his knees weak. “My quarters will be much more comfortable.” Kylo adds rubbing his thumb gently over Hux’s hand.

“Is this some ploy?” Hux asks confused, unable to understand how this bloodthirsty knight can be so sweet to him. Kylo takes his hand and kisses it gently.

“I don’t know what this is.” Kylo admits brushing his lips against Hux’s knuckles again. “You are not what I expected General. But I intend to protect you and this fluff ball.” He says brushing his lips softly against Hux’s mouth. Hux closes his eyes and cautiously leans in deepening the kiss. It’s messy and uncoordinated and their teeth clink together slightly but neither mind. When they pull apart they are flushed and breathless.

“How far are your quarters?” Hux asks aware it is not wise to linger much longer in the middle of the corridor as the pool of blood beside them grows larger.

Kylo smiles. “This way Baby.” The words are barely a murmur in his ear.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know that there wouldn't be lots of blood if Kylo had killed them with his lightsaber but I liked the visual image so just assume Kylo didn't use his lightsaber to kill them.


End file.
